Cold Proximity
by Viking Princess
Summary: A little present to all lovers of AxR fluff. Happy Holidays!


_Once again I give in to my weakness for romantic fluff. And this one is fluffy, very fluffy. And angsty like only a fifteen year old can be, written as it is from Robin's POV. I offer it to you, AxR lovers everywhere, as my version of a Holiday card. Season's Greetings and Happy New Year!_

**Cold Proximity**

Robin took a deep breath and watched it escape her warm lips in a plume of steam in the cold night air. It rose and dissipated, lost in the frosty night sky glowing dark from the ambient city light. She walked slowly and without purpose and listened to her footsteps crunch through the snow – snow so cold that it squeaked beneath her shoes. Flakes clung to the hem of her skirt and the bottom of her long dark coat, frosting her like the trees she passed that held skeletal branches balancing strips of snow on their narrow fingers.

She was alone, though never truly alone. As quietly as she left the hotel room, she knew Amon always awoke and followed her, trailing her through whatever city they were in like a shadow. He never stopped her doing it, never interfered, and never mentioned it afterward and so she had to wonder why he kept allowing her the late night wanderings she had grown to rely on. Robin wasn't even sure why she felt so compelled to walk alone at night. Maybe it was to escape the oppressive protection of four walls surrounding her. Perhaps it was to breathe something other than the stale dry air that hotels universally possessed, smelling of disinfectant and industrial fabric detergent and sometimes the lingering hint of tobacco smoke.

She could ask his permission, she knew. But then she risked the possibility of him saying no, and no was not a word she wanted to hear from his lips. Rejection in any form from her not so companionable companion was something to be avoided, just as they avoided physical touch or sometimes even eye contact. He was polite of course, never harsh or cruel, but politeness could be cold, as cold as the air whipping a rosy hue into her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Maybe it was his silence she was running from, but in that case she was doomed to failure. Even here it followed as he silently mirrored her every step and turn. He never made himself known but she could sense him, pressing near like the darkness itself.

Sometimes she thought about doing something impetuous and dangerous like taking his hand and not letting go until he looked at her, acknowledged her as a person with thoughts and feelings and not just some object to move from town to town and guard from a comfortable emotional distance. And as she walked the quiet streets and park paths she would imagine the consequences of such an action. Optimistically she dreamed of him looking into her eyes and perhaps even squeezing her fingers. Pessimistically she knew it more likely that he would snatch his hand away and reprimand her in as few words as possible. Truthfully she knew he would probably turn silently away as though nothing had happened, again that dreaded disregard that made her abandon completely such thoughts.

It was better to walk alone. Robin found more and more that to be alone meant never having to risk disappointment. It wasn't that she wished him gone. No, not that at all. It was just that she would rather have him truly with her than this farcical comradery that was as hollow and empty as the discarded soda can she noticed in the gutter, blanketed with snow. To walk beside her rather than in the darkness all around her. Alone never left more alone than in the proximity of another, as distance to be measured, and she realized it more surely everyday.

Her disregarded footsteps had led her into a quiet part of the city and the sleeping street that lay before her was deep and even with unmarked snow. The grand houses on either side sat far back from the light of the old fashioned street lamps, whose soft orange glow betrayed the errant flakes that promised more. The soft scene before her held the picturesque charm of a Christmas card and she paused uncertainly. Robin longed to walk amongst the hushed beauty but hesitated to mar the unblemished blanket of white glittering at her feet. It seemed such a shame really, it was so lovely untouched as it was, but she extended her booted foot as though teetering on a precipice and after a sigh brought it down with finality. One step followed the first, and then another as she slowly placed her feet down the center of the tree lined lane.

Resigned now to desecrating the splendor, she soon forgot her remorse and enjoyed instead the feeling of her ankles sinking deep into the powder and revelling the satisfying crunch the snow made in the deep hush. The houses to her right soon gave way to a small park that sat upon the lip of a bluff, affording an awe inducing panorama of the twinkling city huddled in the valley below. She stopped and savored the sight, standing, it felt, upon the edge of the world. The snow was falling heavier now and she felt it peck upon her face and melt into her hair. Robin tore off her gloves and held her palms to the sky as though to collect the frozen droplets, watching with innocent wonder as they melted on her warm skin. The city below and the sky above, the protective arms of trees as her umbrella, all this suddenly seemed so large and yet fleetingly insignificant. The awestruck admiration crescendoed within her until there was only one thing left to do. She teetered back on the heels of her boots and flopped backwards full length into the snow and swished her arms and legs, laughing with childish delight as she created a snow angel.

Giggles rose in her throat that somehow seemed tight with tears and the gasps puffed into the frozen air that could have been laughter or sobs. But soon the stillness of the night reclaimed her and she quieted, lying entombed in the snow bank she had fallen upon. Snowflakes sifted down and began to make her one with her new bed, speckling and collecting on her dark clothing. She wondered idly as she watched her frozen breath rise what it would be like to lie here until the storm covered her completely. Would it be like resting in a soft feather bed? Would the snow keep her warm? How long would it take for some poor unsuspecting person to stumble over her? This thought brought her back to the foolishness of lying in the middle of the street, night or not. Yet she felt a calm she had not felt in so long she was uncertain she had ever before experienced it and so she closed her eyes to feel the flakes land on the soft skin of her lids.

Time must have passed more swiftly than she realized, and a shadow moving into and blocking the light of the nearest streetlamp made Robin spontaneously open her eyes only to find a tall silhouette towering over her.

There was fear, a moment of panic, but it passed in the next heartbeat as she recognized the long coat and the line of the man's shoulders. She felt a blush creep up her neck. How could she have forgotten he would be watching? Amon's face was cast in his own shadow, but she knew he must be scowling. What, she thought, must that have looked like to him? Like an epileptic fit followed by a coma? Hot tears pricked her eyes as she sat up and shook some snow from her sleeves. He hadn't spoken, the most punishing rebuke he could give. "I'm fine," she choked, feeling childish and stupid as she sat in the snow.

And then he spoke. "I know. I used to do that when I was a kid."

_A kid_. The words stung. "Of course not now, though," she replied in a tone that was as close to sarcasm as she ever came.

He didn't answer at first, leaving her to stew in her misery. Then the shadow shook his head. "No. But I had a childhood, and the memory is enough. You are making your memories _now_, since your childhood was taken from you."

Robin's breath stilled as she pondered these words. Was it true? She hadn't thought of it that way, but perhaps he was right. It was, besides, the longest sentence she had heard him construct in quite some time and its noteworthiness was not lost on her.

But before she could consider it any further Amon stepped closer and extended a gloved hand. She stared dumbly at it until it occurred to her he was actually offering to help her up. Tentatively she put her hand in his and he hauled her easily to her feet, then stepped back as she brushed the snow off her clothes. She leaned down and retrieved her discarded gloves, now sodden and utterly worthless. Pocketing them, she rubbed her numb fingers together in an effort to warm them.

Suddenly Amon stepped toward her again, quite close in fact. He peeled the gloves from his own hands and reached out to capture both of hers. She forgot to breathe entirely as he pressed them together and then sandwiched them between his own warm fingers, squeezing slightly to bring life and heat back into her deadened digits. Time had ceased to function and a strange lightness had developed in her belly as they stood on the snowy street with hands clasped.

When she found her breath again, she whispered, "How did you know, Amon? About my childhood?"

He had been staring with a thoughtful expression at their intertwined fingers, but the question brought his smoky eyes to hers. "A kid would have learned to keep her gloves on," he said simply. Yet it made her laugh, and even Amon found a smile for his joke.

Amon finally released her hands and they walked back to the hotel side by side, and Robin felt the heat of his skin on her own the whole way back, the warmth of his smile, and the proximity that no longer measured distance.


End file.
